Between the Scars
by Snootiegirl99
Summary: Obi-Wan is seriously injured by Count Dooku on Geonesis. His injuries redefine his relationship with his Padawan, Anakin. AU to the end of AOTC. Non-slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Between the Scars

**Author**: snootiegirl99

**Summary**: Obi-Wan is seriously injured by Count Dooku on Geonesis. His injuries redefine his relationship with his Padawan, Anakin. AU to the end of AOTC.

**Disclaimer**: I own none of these characters and make no money through the writing or publishing of this story. Disney and George Lucas own everything.

**Chapter 1**

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan yelled as he saw his apprentice launch himself toward the Sith Lord. He threw his lightsaber to the young man hoping to give him some sort of advantage.

As he watched the duel, Obi-Wan became aware that his leggings and tunics felt wet. He pried his eyes away from the scene to search for the cause. Several barrels of fuel were leaking all over the floor of the makeshift hangar. And he was lying right in it.

He tried to move himself to higher and dryer ground, but it was awkward and slow-going with only one useable arm and one leg. He groaned as he pulled and scraped through the fuel mixed with sand.

Stopping every few seconds to check on Anakin's progress with the Count, he noticed that Anakin's Force signature seemed to have stabilized itself from the tumult he had seen earlier. Good, he thought. He's calm and centered. So Obi-Wan kept moving, creating a trail of the liquid despite his efforts to clear the largest of the puddles.

The next sound that drew Obi-Wan's attention was that of an engine firing. He nearly panicked until he saw that Anakin was safely standing behind the solar sailer ship trying to dislodge Dooku from the landing ramp which was rising up and out of the cave.

Just as the engines fired a final time to propel the ship forward, Anakin leapt out of the range of the jet stream, rolling to a crouch to watch his quarry escape with a scowl of frustration on his face. Obi-Wan's relief at his apprentice's escape from harm at the hands of a Sith caused him to close his eyes and hiss out a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding with great difficulty.

Then there was nothing but the color red and pain. Searing pain. Burning pain. Somewhere in Obi-Wan's mind, he understood what was happening. But the rest of him was dealing with the very real fact of the fire which had engulfed him from the engines igniting the fuel.

He could dimly hear someone calling his name. And then everything was black as a canvas tarp was thrown over him. He felt movement beneath him. Then the blinding light of the desert again. Anakin had rescued him from the pool of flame in which he rested, broken and unable to escape himself. Anakin had risked himself within a potential explosion of fuel to stay and help his Master. Oh, Anakin.

The scorching pain that was shooting through every nerve ending in his body from the burns numbed every other thought after he was put to rest on the landing platform. He couldn't process the clone troopers who hovered over him as Anakin shouted orders for evac and medical treatment. Anakin looked so frightened and so far away.

And then there was sweet release in unconsciousness.

* * *

Anakin was taking large gulps of oxygen. The fight with the Sith Lord had been nothing compared to the fear and anger he was experiencing seeing Obi-Wan with so many burns all over his body. He fought back tears and attempted to think, think! about what to do next.

As Master Yoda appeared in a gunship, clones raced onto the landing platform. They carried medical equipment. An oxygen mask was immediately placed over his Master's nose and mouth. Another medic was feeling for a pulse.

"He's alive!" Anakin snarled at the man. "I can feel him. He's alive," he added the second exhortation in a near whisper.

And then they were rolling him onto a stretcher and moving toward the ship. Anakin, kneeling next to the spot in the sand which bore the blood and skin left by his Master, looked up into Master Yoda's eyes with a question.

"In good hands, he is, Padawan. A battle we still have to fight," Yoda told him gently.

Anakin hung his head in shame, knowing that he would turn his back on anything but accompanying Obi-Wan if only it were his choice.

"Yes, Master," he said in a quiet, meek voice. He stood and placed Obi-Wan's lightsaber onto his belt, running his hand over the familiar hilt. "I am ready," he announced.

Another gunship had arrived to take them back to the Command Center. Anakin boarded after Master Yoda, grabbed a handle to steady himself, and realized that he was trembling violently from the loss of adrenaline and the shock.

Anakin closed his impossibly-blue eyes tight. He pictured Obi-Wan as he had seen him in the arena. Strong, self-possessed, achingly Jedi, even in the face of almost-certain defeat time and again. He forced himself to acknowledge that his bond to Obi-Wan was as strong as it had ever been. His Force presence was reassuring, and Anakin was able to control the shaking.

By the time the gunship left them off at the Command Station, the battle was all but over. Anakin was tasked with leading small groups of clones to search through the rubble of Trade Federation ships and battle droids to search for survivors and droids in need of further dispatching. He moved automatically, using the Force as his guide, shutting down his higher brain functions to keep from thinking about the one thing that would paralyze him completely.

_Obi-Wan_.

* * *

A week later, Anakin was still standing watch next to the bubbling bacta tank where his Master floated, unconscious but whole. The Healers said that he would recover once the dermal damage was repaired. However, the extent of the damage meant that there would still be scars on Obi-Wan's whole body. He would live; he would be whole; he would carry a reminder of the fire forever.

And it would take time for him to regain a semblance of his former physical strength, coordination, and stamina.

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes for the first time, he saw Anakin through the murky liquid. He understood that he had been injured, but he couldn't remember all of the details. He watched Anakin rise, place a hand on the side of the plasticene tank, and mouth the word 'Master'. Obi-Wan could tell even through his disorientation that the tone of voice Anakin used to utter that familiar moniker was nothing familiar.

It sent his mind reeling to wonder just what had happened to chasten his brash apprentice so completely. Apparently, he had been badly injured-but was that it? Was that enough to impact the young man this much? Obi-Wan began to discipline his mind toward calm and serenity, to commune with the Force and let go of the anxiety for the moment. Time would reveal all.

An hour after regaining consciousness, Obi-Wan was gently removed from the bacta tank. He breathed for himself, but found himself coughing roughly and often. He had been immersed in bacta before, after a mission to Bondus Prime had left him riddled with animal bites that had threatened to infect. But he did not recall coughing so hard after emerging from the tank.

The Healer next to him laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Try to slow your breathing, Master Kenobi," she said. "Your lungs will need to become used to working on their own again."

He tried to answer her, but found no voice issuing from his throat. He looked to Anakin who stood hovering on the opposite side from the Healer. He could read every single emotion crossing Anakin's face, but none of them gave him the clues to what he really wanted to know.

_How bad?_

_How long?_

_What happened?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

After another week, Obi-Wan had had enough of efficient Healer Padawan fussing over him. He was ready to return to his own quarters where he could be alone. But the Healers weren't about to let him out of the Healer's Wing without assurances about his care.

Yes, he repeated for the hundredth time. His Padawan was perfectly capable of taking care of him. They had been doing so for years in places much less hospitable than the Temple. And hadn't Anakin been a part of his convalescence in one way or another since the day he had been brought in? He had had to practically order Anakin out of his room to stop his hovering and distracting emotional swirl.

Finally, the Healers relented and allowed him to be discharged. He didn't mention it to Anakin.

As he prepared himself mentally for his release back into his life, Obi-Wan reflected on how that life might look. And, of course, that life centered around his Padawan. His recovery wasn't going to be swift. Obi-Wan knew that it was only a matter of time before Anakin became frustrated with him. Even more frustrated than he already seemed to be every day since Anakin turned fourteen.

His Padawan was never known for the length of his patience. He demanded everything from everyone around him-no less than he demanded of himself. But Obi-Wan knew that in his present state he had so much less to give his apprentice. Would Anakin even bother to give Obi-Wan some lame excuse before winging off to some exotic place or another with a new, fully functional, Master?

He could barely lift himself from a reclining position, couldn't hold anything in his hands with any kind of strength or surety. If he couldn't train Anakin properly, and couldn't be a proper Jedi Knight himself, then Obi-Wan wasn't sure what he would do. Being a Jedi was all he ever knew, all he wanted out of his life. To serve the Republic with his knowledge, his dispassion, and his lightsaber.

Obi-Wan had always had doubts about himself. He had doubted he was good enough to be Master Jinn's apprentice. He had doubted he was good enough to defeat a Sith on his own. And he had certainly cultivated a whole garden of doubts about being the Master of the Chosen One. But those doubts had always been buried deep down inside Padawan and Knight Kenobi's consciousness. He never discussed them openly.

Now . . . .

All his faults . . . all his weaknesses . . . all his deficiencies were on display for anyone who cared to look his way. And how many would care to look? They would all want to look once-for curiosity and all-but few would look again.

Would Anakin be one of those who looked once and quickly away? Obi-Wan would know soon enough.

* * *

Anakin ran from room to room in their quarters, cleaning of all things. Obi-Wan was being released from the Healer's Wing later today, and Anakin was under strict instructions from the Healers to minimize his stress. So he cleaned up what would clearly irritate his neat and tidy Master. Dirty plates, stacks of datapads, piles of droid parts, mounds of clothing-every mess seemed to be larger than the last.

He was so preoccupied with sorting the bits of droid into the proper boxes that he would then stow under his bed that he didn't hear Obi-Wan come in through the door under his own power.

He froze when he heard his Master clear his throat.

Slowly, he turned to face the convalescent, his face burning for so many reasons. He hadn't finished his cleaning. He hadn't escorted Obi-Wan from the Healer's Wing. He was disappointing his Master even though Obi-Wan hadn't asked one thing from him.

The young man knew that his forewarning of Obi-Wan's release was only from those tasked with caring for his Master's burned body. His Master hadn't shared the simple fact of his release with Anakin, confusing and hurting him. The patient refused to ask his Padawan for assistance-didn't even want him in the room with him. Is he afraid I'll disappoint him, he pondered.

Like I seem to be doing right now? Anakin pursed his lips and looked down at the items in his hands. Quickly, he threw them haphazardly into the boxes and took the boxes silently to his room. Is he going to want me out of his life permanently, he wondered as he surveyed the enormous mess still littering his own room.

When he returned to their shared living space, Obi-Wan still stood where he had moments before. But his eyes were sweeping around the room as if searching for something familiar-something which would say home. The only thing he saw that even remotely fit the bill was Anakin. Anakin was home to Obi-Wan no matter where they were. Until he decides to find a new one, he thought dismally.

Anakin stood five paces away, his hands wringing, unable or unwilling to say anything, to initiate conversation with this man who had been his constant companion for a decade.

He almost didn't recognize his Master. All of his hair had been singed off by the fire. His skin was still an angry pink even after the bacta. And since his coughing had been wracking his frame a little less every day by refraining from talking, he hadn't heard Obi-Wan's voice above a small whisper since that day on Geonesis.

"_Anakin_!" he heard in his mind, echoing through the cave.

But the bright light of his Force signature said Obi-Wan, and Anakin clung to that familiarity as desperately as he had tried to shed the burden that being Obi-Wan's apprentice had felt like before Geonesis. He had wanted Obi-Wan to stop holding him back. He had wanted his Master to believe in him. Now those selfish concerns seemed juvenile and petty-he knew they were. He needed to grow up.

Obi-Wan's brow furrowed a little in thought. His lips opened as if to say something, but then he seemed to think better of it. His mouth closed softly, and he started to move, slowly, with obvious difficulty, toward his bedroom. He was looking forward to sleeping in a more personal space than a hospital bed.

Anakin was at a complete loss for the actions and words that a grown-up would use. It was a strange condition for him to feel so unsure. He watched Obi-Wan shuffle across the low carpet toward his bedroom. The consternation which strangled Anakin at the sight was something he was going to have to start accepting and controlling if he was going to make things up to his Master.

He tried two or three times to take a step toward Obi-Wan, to move from his spot where he just wished the floor would open up and swallow him. But he didn't have the control yet.

After Obi-Wan shut the door of his bedroom quietly, Anakin allowed himself to resume breathing. He hung his head and covered his eyes. With an exasperated sound, he went back to his cleaning.

* * *

Obi-Wan stood in his bedroom. He just stood. I should lie down, he thought. But I'm not sure-how. He had needed help to get out of bed, to get dressed, to do so many things these days.

Anakin probably thought he had walked all the way home unassisted, but the truth was that Obi-Wan had sent the Healer Padawan away at their front door, assuring her that his Padawan was perfectly capable of helping him from there. It had taken him minutes just to get down the passageway and into the common room. Luckily, Anakin's noisy collecting had drowned out any noise he had made.

It had also served to give Obi-Wan time to straighten himself and appear to be the Jedi Knight that he was. He knew that he wasn't completely recovered, but he also knew that he would be eventually. And the Healers had thought that being in his own quarters would cheer him up. But that's where Anakin was . . . .

He hated being weak in front of Anakin, but better him than anyone else. The parameters of their relationship ensured that Anakin would not make him the object of ridicule throughout the Order. Anakin didn't talk about what went on between them under normal circumstances.

This discretion seemed to Obi-Wan to be counterintuitive to Anakin's vast mood swings and mercurial behavior. But still, he knew that the reserve was as solid as Anakin's control over said mood swings was tenuous. He wouldn't be the one to ever betray the sanctity of their training bond.

Obi-Wan walked, or shuffled, around his bedroom looking at the few small possessions of sentimental value he had. When he came to the small mirror on his modest dresser, he stopped in shock. He hadn't been given a choice to see himself in the Healer's Ward. They had kept him bandaged and salved and in bed as long as possible.

Now he saw why they had avoided that particular treatment. Obi-Wan reached a trembling hand up to touch his face. His beard gone. His eyebrows gone. His bald head. But the lack of hair wasn't the most disturbing thing. The scars on his skin were. They were everywhere.

He looked like his skin had melted-and it had, really. He was lucky to be alive. And to have so little internal damage. His lungs and throat had borne the brunt of the assault through his panicked gasping of the smoke from his enflamed body. He ran a hand across the scars to feel them.

They were soft. He was surprised. He imagined that they would be hard, dry, unforgiving. As he continued to explore them, he parted his outer tunics to see how they progressed down his torso. Long lines and small swirls interspersed with puckers and bumps. Altogether, he was a canvas of abstract figures from head to toes.

After a few minutes, he was also exhausted. He dropped his the thick tunics onto the floor but retained a thin covering, heedless to the mess he couldn't clean anyway. Approaching his bed, he leaned forward with his arms outstretched to try to cushion his weight and use all four limbs to lower himself gently. But his body was not in a mood to cooperate.

With a loud thud and a whispered curse, Obi-Wan fell, half on the floor, half on his bed. Before he could collect himself and try to flop more up onto his intended destination, he felt strong, warm hands under his arms.

"Master," Anakin said softly. "Let me-."

Obi-Wan was mortified. He allowed Anakin to help him up onto the bed from his halfway position, but before his apprentice started to roll him over or arrange him like a doll or a corpse, he said, "Thank you, Padawan. I'm fine now," dismissing him.

Anakin heard the dismissal, but he was unsure. Should he really leave his injured Master to fend for himself?

"Are you sure, Master?" he ventured.

"Yes!" Obi-Wan said as loudly as he could, his voice gravelly and broken. He waved a hand toward the door, indicating his impatience to be alone. Anakin left without another word.

Obi-Wan sighed into his bedcovering. He did need help, but he didn't want to have to need it. Not from his apprentice. Not from anyone. If Anakin had to help him all the time, then just who was the Master here anyway?

A Jedi was self-assured, self-possessed, and self-reliant. A Jedi provided help to those in need-a Jedi did not need. It was unconscionable to be so weak and helpless, even after an injury as severe as his was.

A Jedi was a guardian of the Republic-of civilization itself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Anakin paced outside of Obi-Wan's door, his ears straining to pick up any other sounds that would indicate distress on the part of his Master. After an hour, he decided that Obi-Wan probably needed sleep and would be able to get some on his own bed without his help. Even helpless newborns are able to sleep on their own, he reasoned.

He attended to some matters of messages left for them while they had been offworld. Then he made himself a sandwich for dinner and sat at the table eating by himself. He watched the traffic of Coruscant as it banked around the Temple, a never-ending caterpillar of machinery. After a while, he realized that it was dark in their quarters.

He switched on a few lights from his seated position using the Force. His half-eaten sandwich lay in front of him. He had never stopped eating in the middle of a meal before. Even if he was busy-physically or mentally-with something else, he still ate automatically, mechanically.

Another small noise behind him caught his attention again. Obi-Wan stood in the doorway of his room. He had a sour look to his face-not just pain, but pain mixed with fury. He glanced at Anakin.

"Um," he began, ever so eloquent, he thought, "'Fresher?" He phrased it as a question, and Anakin didn't understand. Was he asking where it was? Was he asking for permission to use it?

"Master?" Anakin asked back. He was at a loss.

Obi-Wan's gaze dropped to his bare feet. He had managed to get his boots off while he had been lying down. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply. "I require . . . . assistance," he finished.

"Oh!" Anakin squeaked as he hurriedly rose and walked to the older man. "What do you need me to do?"

"Either steady me or," he took a breath after so many words. "Help me sit." He couldn't look at Anakin. He had never needed help in the fresher for anything so basic since he had been toilet trained. It was humiliating.

Anakin flushed a bright red, but Obi-Wan missed it, awash in his own personal hell. He started to move again, and Anakin trailed behind him, his hands uselessly fluttering behind Obi-Wan's back but not touching him.

Once inside the room, Anakin asked, "Which do you prefer?"

Obi-Wan had considered this in the bedroom before exiting. It would be easier to sit, but then he'd require help standing again. Using a standing position would be more likely to create a mess though. "Whatever you want," he told his apprentice.

Anakin opted to help his Master by clasping his upper body under his arms and across his chest. But there was another problem with this help.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes again. "I can't reach," he said hoarsely. And it was true. He was unable to reach his pants to extricate himself with Anakin's arms under his.

Anakin was struck completely dumb. Obi-Wan wasn't suggesting that he help him with his pants, was he? He stood there, his arms wrapped around his injured Master, adrift. He didn't know what to do or say.

"Hurry," Obi-Wan managed to get out of his strangled throat. He was going be in need of new pants soon if he didn't get some relief. "Just-hurry," he instructed, trying to sound as unembarrassed as possible.

With a quick movement of his right hand, Anakin untied the laces on the front of Obi-Wan's leggings and tried to move the fabric without actually touching any of his Master's skin. But he was too late.

Obi-Wan let out a garbled sound that spoke of his frustration again. Anakin didn't understand what the problem was until his hand was wet and warm. Obi-Wan's urine had soaked the pants as well as his Padawan's hand and the floor. It seem to go everywhere except into the toilet.

Trying not to show his discomfort with the situation, Anakin shook his hand off. He almost dropped Obi-Wan trying to get his hand under the faucet in the sink so quickly. They were thrown off-balance by the sudden move, and Anakin only kept them both from hitting their heads on the countertop by his long arm colliding with the wall. The slickness of his wet hand had let him slide along the front of the sink until it met the obstacle.

"Uh," Obi-Wan grunted. Here he was, his pants undone, wet, urinated on, his body off balance and in his Padawan's arms, himself indebted to someone to help him take a kriffing piss-it was worse than the incident in the bedroom. And at that time, he couldn't have imagined anything worse than that.

Anakin tried to recover their upright position, nearly slipping in the mess on the floor. "Right. Okay," he said with some sort of conviction. "Let me, um, get some, uh . . ."

Obi-Wan broke in with his unrecognizable voice, "Wet cloth, soap, clean pants, bed, then clean floor." Was this the extent of Anakin's abilities? Unable to think in a situation with an injured person? What had he learned in the past ten years? Apparently not 'calm under pressure.'

Anakin nodded and moved as if to start gathering the things Obi-Wan had listed. But as he did, he remembered that he had his other arm tucked around his Master's chest still. "Do you still need me to hold you up?" he asked.

Obi-Wan shook his head, so Anakin slowly released him to his unsteady stance. He bustled around Obi-Wan, meticulously avoiding jostling him even a little. When Obi-Wan had his cloth and soap, he began his slow shuffle back the way he had come. Anakin followed behind.

Now grateful for the moisture that was sticking his pants to his legs and preventing them from falling to his ankles and tripping him, Obi-Wan re-entered his bedroom. He gestured toward a drawer for Anakin to get him some clean sleep pants. Anakin returned with a pair and threw them on the bed.

Obi-Wan discreetly cleaned himself but knew that his pants would have to come off completely or he would still be able to smell the mess. But he couldn't do it on his own-again.

He screwed his eyes shut tight once more. "Anakin," he said. Anakin turned expectantly to Obi-Wan. He was trying to control his tumult of emotions-fear, anger, sorrow, frustration, embarrassment-in front of his usually placid Master. After all that had happened, he didn't need a lecture from Obi-Wan about controlling his feelings.

Why is he so angry with me? Is it because . . . so many reasons came to mind that he deliberately stopped that line of thought. I have to get my shit together and start thinking about something and someone more than myself, he decided. I will make my Master proud.

"Assist me in removing my pants," Obi-Wan asked.

"Oh!" Anakin squealed again. He hadn't thought about Obi-Wan needing more help changing his pants. He had thought he would do that himself. However, after what had happened in the 'fresher, he should have known better. "Yes, Master," he said in a more measured tone.

Holding on to to Obi-Wan's forearms, Anakin lined his Master up with the side of his bunk. Lowering slowly to a seated position, Anakin considered how best to proceed. "I'm going to lie you back, Master. Then I can remove your pants and put clean ones on with little effort on your part." He was a bit astonished at his taking charge of the situation. So was Obi-Wan.

Well, they both better get used to it.

"Okay," was the only whispered response from Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan kept his eyes shut throughout the whole successful operation. He didn't need to watch, he could feel everything. Anakin was as clinical as he could be. And because of the acumen of his hands after years of tinkering with machines, he had Obi-Wan undressed, cleaned, dried, and redressed in no time. Without another word, they parted company again.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and let sleep wash everything from his mind.

* * *

Obi-Wan jolted awake. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with Anakin. He lifted his head and turned to catch the sounds he knew he had heard, the sounds he often heard at this time of night.

Anakin was having a nightmare. And by the sounds of it, it was horrendous.

Forgetting his own encumbrances, Obi-Wan tried to throw off his blankets and rise as he always would at these times. But his arms refused to shift the entire weight of the light coverings and his legs moved slowly to extricate themselves from the bedclothes too. Oh, that's right, I'm not fully myself right now, he thought.

And then Obi-Wan felt a new sensation as he heard Anakin's shouts and howls from two rooms and two closed doors away. He felt panicked. How was he supposed to get to Anakin? How was he supposed to act the part he had played for the past decade?

Anakin needed him. He could hear it in the boy's voice.

Disregarding his own discomfort and uncooperative limbs, he steeled his will and rolled himself out of bed onto the floor. He would crawl if need be. He would not let his condition rob him of his role as Anakin's Master.

As it so happened, he did have to crawl. He tried to stand once, but the effort was so intense that he felt dizzy. Better to be closer to the ground if he should fall, he decided. So centimeter by centimeter, he pulled and wriggled and cajoled himself closer and closer to Anakin's door.

The sight of his Padawan, his student, raging against his own mind almost broke Obi-Wan. How could he save the boy from this when he could do nothing even for himself? But then a stray thought saved him: what does Anakin need most from you, Obi-Wan? No matter what state your body is in, you can always offer compassion. You can listen.

Propping himself up next to Anakin's bed, Obi-Wan whispered harshly, "Anakin!" In his mind, he sees an eleven-year old Anakin thrashing in his bed, covered in cold sweat. Nightmares do not discriminate by age.

Anakin gave one more gasp and then shot upright from the mattress. He looked around, disoriented from the barrage of images in his subconscious. He turned to Obi-Wan and grasped his Master by the biceps.

"Master! I had the most horrible dream!" He began. But as he felt the arms under his hands, the ridges in the skin, he realized it hadn't been a nightmare—at least not the original event. His mind had only recreated it for his own personal viewing pleasure.

Anakin quickly released his Master, noting that Obi-Wan was sitting on the floor with his legs at an awkward angle from his body. Oh Force, he thought, he crawled in here. My nightmares dragged Obi-Wan from his bed, across the apartment in the middle of the night, on his hands and knees.

"Are you all right? Do you want to talk about the nightmare?" Obi-Wan asked him in the loudest voice he could manage. Concern was written all over his marked face. Even without his eyebrows, Anakin recognized the same look Obi-Wan always gave him after waking him from a nightmare. It was part concern and part impatience. At twenty years old, Obi-Wan thought that Anakin should be over having nightmares—at least as frequently as he did.

"No, no, Master. I'm so sorry that I disturbed you. You need your sleep," Anakin said as he threw back his blankets and placed his feet on the floor. He reached automatically to help Obi-Wan to his feet, wondering if burned skin could still get rug burns.

Once on his feet though, Obi-Wan pushed away from Anakin's body gently. "I can make it back on my own. Are you sure you're all right?" he asked.

"It's fine, Master. I wasn't the one-. Um, I can walk with you," Anakin replied as he tried to take his Master's arm again.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan intoned in the closest approximation of his normal voice that Anakin had heard yet. "Release me," he commanded.

"But—" Anakin began and was silenced by the Master glare of Master Kenobi. Obi-Wan began moving toward the door. Anakin hovered behind him, every second expecting Obi-Wan to fall back into his waiting arms from exertion.

Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder and frowned at Anakin again. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Nothing," Anakin said quietly and cut his eyes to the floor. "Just trying to help . . ." he trailed off.

"I do not require your assistance, Padawan," Obi-Wan reiterated.

"You don't?" Anakin threw back before his mind had full control over his mouth. "That's not what it looks like." He stood with his hands on his hips in his most provocative stance. The one that always riled his Master.

Reaching a hand out to the door frame, Obi-Wan turned his whole torso toward the young man behind him. "I came here to assist you, Padawan. You were having a nightmare and shaking the very room with your cries," he reported.

Anakin looked away in shame. Still frightened of the images in your own head, he thought. When he raised his eyes again, it was just in time to see Obi-Wan stumble outside of Anakin's bedroom door. With lightning speed, Anakin was there to catch him. But just as fast, Obi-Wan was shaking him off.

"Let me—" Obi-Wan challenged Anakin's helping hand.

"Let me—"Anakin said at the same time, trying to convince his Master to just accept his help.

They stopped and stared at each other, each man lost in his own thoughts and unaware of the similarities between them. Both offered comfort and help; both thought the other only saw weakness and disgrace.

Anakin held onto the cloth of Obi-Wan's tunic to keep him from slipping to the floor at the same time Obi-Wan was pushing against Anakin's chest with both hands to loosen the young man's iron clasp. They seemed gripped in a battle, a contest. After a moment, neither of them wanted to win or lose. They simply wanted to be away from each other.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and concentrated. and suddenly Anakin felt an unseen hand pulling him back from his Master. It was gentle at first, but then strong as he met the wall with a resounding thwack of bare skin on wallboard. Anakin's eyes widened in complete surprise. Obi-Wan's eyes opened and stared at the young man with as much disdain as Anakin had ever seen on his face.

"I said, leave me, Padawan," he said in a controlled voice. And he turned to trudge back to his own room.

Anakin watched him until the door was closed. Then he allowed himself to feel hurt and angry and rejected—again. Obi-Wan had used the Force against him. Against his own Padawan. Anakin was bereft as he made his way back to his small bunk and cowered underneath the blankets.

Unaware of these thoughts running through Anakin's mind, Obi-Wan suspected that his Padawan was belittling and pitying him. Poor old Obi-Wan has to be coddled and cared for. Poor old Obi-Wan can't hide from his weaknesses anymore. Now they're attached to his body for anyone to see.

They both had the same question on their tongues: who was that man in the next room?


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The next morning, Obi-Wan felt a measure stronger. He was able to sit up unaided. Slowly, he managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed and roll to the floor. From there, he adopted the stance of a toddler learning to walk-pushing his butt up in the air until his legs straightened and then lifting his upper body, every few seconds stopping to sway and re-balance.

Uninterested in a repeat of the scene in the 'fresher from last night, Obi-Wan decided to navigate the complexities of the toilet himself. It couldn't be any worse. He was pleased to note, however, that all traces of his 'accident' had actually been cleaned from the floor.

After long, long minutes relieving himself, re-lifting himself upright, and realigning his clothing, he emerged from the 'fresher to a sleep-tousled Padawan. Anakin almost lost his balance in his surprise at meeting Obi-Wan coming out of the 'fresher by himself.

"Oh!" he squealed again and scowled. Why did he keep making that damn noise? "Are you-have you-" Anakin waved a hand in the general direction of the 'fresher.

"Yes, I'm fine, Anakin," was the reply of a million uses.

Anakin shrugged and scratched his head. "Ok," he agreed and angled around Obi-Wan to use the 'fresher himself.

Now that his immediate needs were met, Obi-Wan had no idea what to do with himself. He had no responsibilities until further notice. He was tired but not sleepy. And his mind felt like it was hungry-hungry for something to think about beside pain.

He shuffled over to the couch and ungracefully fell on it. It was the fastest way to recline, but he only resorted to it because he knew Anakin was out of the room. He didn't relish the idea of looking like a fish out of water as he flopped around on the coarse material, trying to find a comfortable position. He settled in just before Anakin reappeared.

"Uh, breakfast?" Anakin asked.

"Tea, please," Obi-Wan answered curtly.

As Anakin made the tea, Obi-Wan attempted reclining meditation. He had just achieved a semblance of comfort suspended in the Force when Anakin announced the arrival of his cup of tea. Obi-Wan cracked open his eyes and found Anakin looking at him with an inquisitive look.

"What does it feel like?" Anakin asked impertinently as he gestured to Obi-Wan's bare scalp and face. Leaning in to inspect the damaged dermis, Anakin's nose wrinkled unconsciously in mimic of the grooves in his Master's skin.

Obi-Wan shrank back as far into the couch as he could to avoid the unwanted scrutiny. "What does what feel like, Anakin?" he asked in what he felt was his most reasonable tone given the circumstances.

Anakin made a circular motion with his hand to take in all of Obi-Wan's face. "Your skin. What does it feel like?" he repeated.

"Do you want to feel it for yourself?" Obi-Wan asked, not really meaning it at all. He didn't want anyone to touch him for a very long time. Perhaps ever.

Anakin shook his head and backed away again. He realized that he did not want to even be close to those striations in Obi-Wan's skin, much less make contact with them. He had cognitively processed his Master's injury during his time at the Healer's, but to actually see it. To actually know that it was permanent and life-altering in a way he couldn't understand was frightening to him. He shrank back from the meaning of the scars more than the scars themselves.

What's going on, they both wondered. Where did this awkwardness come from? We're here, in our own home, just the two of us, as we have been countless nights, but now it's different. It's the opposite of comfort. It's the opposite of the way it's supposed to be.

Obi-Wan was damaged. He was deformed and disfigured. What was going to happen now? Would he ever get his strength back? Would he continue to be Anakin's Master? What would Anakin do if Obi-Wan wasn't able to continue training him? Anakin frowned at the thought of anyone else leading him around the galaxy on missions for the Council.

And while Anakin was mired in his fear of losing Obi-Wan, his Master was fearing the same thing from his viewpoint. He seriously doubted his ability to be Anakin's Master anymore. He knew the boy wasn't ready for the trials, but how would he continue Anakin's training if he had trouble holding a spoon much less a lightsaber? And as to the emotional fortitude required to coax Anakin into some semblance of a Jedi, he shook his head.

Anakin took the head shake to mean his Master hadn't wanted him to touch his skin anyway. Finally, he had made the right decision.

But when Anakin backed away, Obi-Wan thought to himself, better get used to that reaction from people based on what I saw in the mirror last night. His rubbed his hands against one another, again astonished at the plasticity of the new ridges. Then he rested his hands on his abdomen, thinking to adopt a posture of ease. But the additional scarring under his hands reminded him that there would be no respite from this bombardment upon his person.

It was everywhere.

Suddenly, Obi-Wan felt an overwhelming need to be alone-he didn't want his tea anymore. He pushed himself up from the couch and proceeded to emulate the procedure from the bedroom to stand. Anakin had the presence of mind to cross to his Master and offer to help, but Obi-Wan brushed it off. He made his way to his room and closed the door silently, leaning his back against the cold durasteel.

_This is my life now_, he thought. _The life of a crippled Jedi_.

* * *

When Obi-Wan awoke again, he could see Anakin from his bed, through the open door, seated in the common room and reading a data pad. He studied the young man from his vantage point in relative darkness, forgetting that he had closed the door to escape Anakin in the first place.

During the weeks in stasis and in his narrow hospital bed, he had thought about Anakin more than he had himself. He had wondered how Anakin had held off Count Dooku. He had wondered how Anakin had saved him from the flames. He had wondered how Anakin was handling Obi-Wan's injuries-emotionally.

Knowing his Padawan, and feeling him in the Force constantly, the pastiche of emotions that always emanated from Anakin had increased an untold amount. Exponentially larger, wider, heavier. Obi-Wan could taste Anakin's emotions in his very dry mouth. His head tossed and turned awake and asleep, as best he could in his condition, with the weight of his Padawan's mind in his.

He wasn't certain whether it had hindered his recovery. Maybe. As time passed, Anakin gained more of his control back, although Obi-Wan doubted there was any lessening of the heavy state behind those mental shields. And then Obi-Wan had been able to concentrate more on himself.

Now, seeing Anakin sitting in his usual spot in their own home, Obi-Wan felt that he might be overwhelmed. The normality of his apprentice just threw his own changes into sharper relief. He could barely move. He couldn't perform basic tasks like eating, bathing, clothing himself very well or very efficiently. Nevermind trying to resume his former life as a Jedi. No, he told himself, there is no self-pity.

He saw Anakin's head rise and his eyes swing to the front door a second before he heard the buzzer. Anakin smoothly rose from the couch, tossing the datapad onto it as he strode out of Obi-Wan's view. He heard voices. Then he heard movement coming in his direction.

"Master?" Anakin called to him in a soft voice, suspecting him still asleep.

"I'm awake," was his Master's response.

Anakin raised the lights but kept them dim. "The Healer is here for your physical therapy, Master," he said.

"Oh," Obi-Wan replied having forgotten that the Healers had stipulated they would visit him daily for a while yet. "Come in, young one," he said to the Healer who looked closer to being a youngling than a Knight.

Anakin bowed out respectfully and allowed the door to close behind him. He resumed his position on the couch within earshot.

After an hour, during which Anakin had approached the door countless times on account of the sounds he heard his Master issuing, the Healer emerged from Obi-Wan's bedroom. He looked shell-shocked. He was sweating and green-faced, which for his species was like a flush on his cheeks. Anakin looked up expectantly from his spot.

"Um," the Padawan stammered. "He's done for today. I'll be back tomorrow. Here's his salve." The Healer handed Anakin a large container. Anakin looked at the item in his hand and then the other boy doubtfully. "For his skin," the Healer prompted, as if reminding Anakin.

"His skin?" Anakin repeated.

The Healer looked at him with a quizzical look. He had been told by his Master that Padawan Skywalker was taking care of Master Kenobi's injuries now that he had been released. He assumed that meant that Skywalker had been instructed in his care.

As the silence stretched, Anakin began to suspect that he had missed something. But he wasn't about to look the fool in front of this kid. So instead he adopted a trademark non-chalance.

"Oh, yeah, for his skin. Got it. You can go now." Anakin looked toward the door but made no move to show the other Padawan out.

The other boy shook his head and took his leave. It wasn't his business really. His Master had discharged Master Kenobi. He had faith that she wouldn't have if she suspected that he was in danger.

Anakin waited until the other boy was gone. Then he launched himself up and toward Obi-Wan's door, which was still open. Inside, Obi-Wan lay stretched out on his bed, breathing heavily and covered in sweat as much as the Healer Padawan had been.

"Bad?" Anakin asked softly.

Obi-Wan turned his head to look into Anakin's eyes. "Yes," was his hoarse reply. "And it is going to get worse."

Anakin narrowed his eyes and frowned. What did he mean, worse?

"I would like to bathe, but-" Obi-Wan stopped and clenched his eyes closed tight again. "I need assistance." He opened them again.

"You mean, like-" Anakin waved his hands toward Obi-Wan, indicating he knew not what.

"To keep me from falling and to reach my back, my feet, the extremities," Obi-Wan said. He was blushing furiously.

"Ok," Anakin agreed easily. "It's not a big deal. I've seen you naked before." He crossed his arms, leaned against the doorframe again, and actually smiled.

"That is not what bothers me, Padawan," Obi-Wan informed his dense apprentice. "I am not a victim of vanity, even now." Obi-Wan gestured at himself. "Just please walk me into the 'fresher. I'm exhausted from the therapy."

Anakin lifted his Master and assisted him into the stark white 'fresher. Obi-Wan looked even pinker against the backdrop of white tile. As Anakin turned on the shower and adjusted the water's temperature, mindful of keeping it a little on the cool side, Obi-Wan untied the laces on his leggings and started them down his legs.

When Anakin turned back to him, he found Obi-Wan struggling to get the light material off of his feet without losing his balance. He leaned down to Obi-Wan's feet. A hand rested lightly on Anakin's shoulder as the young man lifted one foot and then the other, replacing them slowly and gently to minimize Obi-Wan's upset of balance. After Anakin straightened again, he removed his own tunics.

"What are you doing?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I'm going to stand behind you to make sure that you don't fall. Plus, I can't really reach you to wash if I'm not in there with you," Anakin said with all sorts of logic and matter-of-factness.

"Oh, yes," Obi-Wan agreed with a small nod. Then they entered the shower stall and closed the door behind them. There was just enough room for two if one kept mostly to the wall, so Anakin did just that. He leaned back and adjusted his legs to the outside of Obi-Wan's to keep a steady stance. He felt a little chilled between the cool tile and the cool mist from the shower head. Obi-Wan, however, had his eyes closed, his entire body under the spray and a look of utter surrender on his face.

Anakin waited until his Master roused himself. Then he reached for the bar of soap and began soaping up his Master's shoulder blades. One hand held the soap between his hand and his Master's skin, but the other hand had free reign to touch and to feel.

What he felt made Anakin's stomach churn.

The distortion of his Master's freckled skin was disturbing. That something could touch his Master in this way enflamed Anakin's sense of indignation. Nothing, and no one, should be able to hurt his Master in this manner. He should never know this kind of suffering or sacrifice. Not that Obi-Wan wasn't comfortable with sacrifice-a Jedi made all sorts of large and trivial sacrifices constantly. But this was an unnecessary sacrifice in Anakin's estimation.

He tried to control his emotions as he cleaned Obi-Wan's body. He decided that he would just do all of the washing to save his Master the trouble. He could concentrate on keeping his balance. But as he began to go over his Master's shoulders to his chest, essentially enclosing Obi-Wan in an embrace, the older man bristled.

"I said, extremities, Anakin," he reminded him.

"I know. I figured this would be faster and easier," he replied and kept soaping lower on his Master's abdomen, wondering how his Master's skin had felt before the fire had changed it irreparably.

But when his hands approached Obi-Wan's hips, the Master batted at them as best he could. "No," he said softly but desperately.

"It's ok, Master. I don't mind. It's just us," Anakin assured him.

"No, I don't want to-" Obi-Wan tried to express the nearly inexpressible for him. "I don't want to need this-this help. I shouldn't," he finished lamely.

Anakin stopped. He absorbed Obi-Wan's words. He shouldn't? Was he not essentially barely out of the hospital? Even though time had passed, the severity of his injuries made weeks of recovery more like days or hours as his body struggled to rebuild.

Obi-Wan's constant insistence that he needed no help and was 'fine' pushed all of Anakin's buttons. Obi-Wan didn't want to show weakness. He didn't want to require help of any kind. He thought a Jedi should be an island. Anakin thought it was a load of poodoo.

But he had to deal with this mindset, here, now, in the shower. He had to get Obi-Wan to let him take charge for a change. Obi-Wan was going to have to let his guard down and just accept his needs for once. And Anakin was going to have to make him do so.

Anakin took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. "Master, allow me to do this for you as you have done so much for me in the past. Think of it as repayment," Anakin said slowly and deliberately.

"Well, that's just it, isn't it?" Obi-Wan returned with a sigh. "How am I supposed to be the Master if you are taking care of me like a youngling?"

Anakin scoffed at this. "Don't be ridiculous, Master," he said and resumed his ministrations.

However, he had barely resumed his work when he was frozen again by the sensation of a certain part of Obi-Wan's anatomy that had changed its position and stature. Obi-Wan was mortified once again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. What else could go wrong today?

Anakin resumed his washing of other areas. "It's ok, Master. It's a relief that you are 'healing' in all ways, isn't it?" He looked up at Obi-wan from his position at his Master's scarred knees.

Obi-Wan gave him a wan smile, and said, "I suppose that's one way of looking at it. It kind of hurts though. My skin isn't as elastic as it used to be."

"Hopefully that will ease with time," Anakin offered.

Obi-Wan gave a small sound of assent.

After a few more short minutes, Anakin pronounced Obi-Wan clean and ready to depart the shower. Obi-Wan looked down at Anakin and remarked, "You're soaked."

"Not to worry," the young man replied, slipping his wet pants to the floor and reaching for a towel. He dried off his chest and arms quickly and then wrapped it around his waist. Reaching for another towel, he held it out hesitantly to Obi-Wan. "May I?" he asked permission before touching his Master again.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan responded.

Taking the care of an art collector polishing his favorite sculpture, Anakin dried his Master's skin with a patting motion, careful to avoid rubbing the raw and angry scar tissue. Obi-Wan truly looked like he had been left out in the sun too long. Or, ironically, that he had sat in water too long. His skin seemed not to fit his body anymore.

When they emerged from the 'fresher, Anakin's eyes landed on the container of salve the Healer had entrusted to him. He left Obi-Wan's side briefly to fetch it. "Salve?" he said when he had it and turned to face his Master again.

"Oh, yes," Obi-Wan said, again lowering his eyes. "It's supposed to be rubbed into the skin every day. All of the skin," he said with a resigned shrug of his shoulders. He had said 'the skin,' not 'my skin' as if it wasn't a part of him anymore. "I could try to-"

But he was cut off. Anakin had returned to his side and was steering him into his bedroom with determination.

"Anakin, I don't want a repeat of the 'incident' in the shower," he said, wondering how this day could get more humiliating and vexing. Another unwanted erection? Unthinkable.

"Master, it's ok. You need this. Just try to relax," Anakin used a soothing tone that was more often heard in the creche than in their quarters. He eased Obi-Wan down onto his bed yet again. The older man attempted to sink into a meditation before Anakin began applying the salve to his body to try to distance himself from the weakness of his body.

He succeeded and remained entranced throughout the whole process. Anakin on the other hand, spent the whole time exploring the nuances of this new visage. There was not a square inch of Obi-Wan's body that he didn't canvass. He would not let his incompetence, impatience, or lack of thorough attention be a detriment to Obi-Wan this time. He would be the last line of defense between Obi-Wan and any further deterioration from this incident.

After he was satisfied that his Master was thoroughly covered, Anakin sought out a clean pair of leggings, shimmied them up his Master's legs and tied the laces neatly. At last, Obi-Wan emerged from his meditation to find himself being tucked into bed. He managed a small smile of gratitude before turning away again as he had earlier.

"Can I get you anything?" Anakin asked, standing over his Master with his fists on his towel-wrapped hips. Obi-Wan shook his head. "Are you sure?" Anakin tried again.

"Just sleep," was the reply.

Anakin walked slowly to the door, turning with the intention of asking Obi-Wan one more question, but then thought the better of it. It would wait.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

As the weeks passed, the two men found their insecurities about each other growing without much check. But as Obi-Wan's confidence in himself diminished with every obstacle he encountered, Anakin began to feel stronger in his ability to rise above himself and put Obi-Wan first for a change. He felt he was learning a very important lesson of being a Jedi that he had never been called on to observe so completely before.

With his Master on indefinite leave, Anakin was also unofficially on indefinite leave. Which sounded like a sort of punishment to someone as active as Padawan Skywalker. So he busied himself with the business of becoming a model Padawan.

He knew that there were events unfolding across the Mid- and Outer Rims that he could be involved with, where his blade could make a difference. However, he disciplined himself, I am making a difference, right here and now. I am helping to heal one of the greatest Jedi in the galaxy. What higher calling could there be at this moment than that?

Of course, it frustrated him to know that others were risking their lives while he was grounded. But he wouldn't have wanted to be there without Obi-Wan anyway. Still, he was feeling a little house-bound.

He spent an inordinate amount of time pacing back and forth from one end of his bedroom, across the common room, to stop only at Obi-Wan's closed bedroom door. There he paused, poised to listen. Nothing. Again.

He traversed the length of the apartment again. So preoccupied with his own caged feelings, he didn't notice his Master standing in the doorway to his bedroom, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his marred face. Not even eyelashes . . . Anakin thought as he came up toe-to-toe to his Master. Anakin blinked once before stepping back three paces to give his Master some personal space.

Obi-Wan uncrossed his arms and cast his eyes around the room, landing on the kitchen. "I'm hungry," he croaked out and started moving. "Can you-?" he added in a much quieter voice.

"Yes, Master," Anakin agreed. At last, something to do!

However, when he stepped into the kitchen, he remembered that his cooking skills were nearly non-existent. He had always depended on either Obi-Wan's cooking or someone else's. Searching through the refrigeration unit, he found the ingredients from which he had been making his own meals. He slapped another one together for Obi-Wan, added a piece of fresh fruit, and set the plate before his Master who had seated himself awkwardly at the table.

Seeing the bent posture of his Master, Anakin grabbed the back of the chair to adjust it and the pliant body contained therein. Obi-Wan almost fell as he lost his grip on the side of the table. He swore under his breath as Anakin once again steadied and righted him, pushing the chair back to the table.

Obi-Wan leaned on his arms, resting on the table-so uncivilized, but necessary at this juncture-and his head tucked toward his chest. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the food, feeling his stomach growling for nourishment. It took what felt like an eternity to get the sandwich to his mouth. And he found biting and chewing to be as difficult as every other mundane task had proven to be. But he managed to get the food down his throat without too much difficulty.

Anakin sat watching this spectacle, trying to keep from commenting. He picked up a stray piece of meat that had escaped the bread and placed it back onto Obi-Wan's plate. He missed the short glare that Obi-Wan gave him for tidying his mess. Obi-Wan continued to eat in the same struggling manner. Anakin noticed that his hands were shaking more each time he raised the food, so much so that he was having trouble aiming for his own mouth.

"So, um, I heard on the HoloNews that the Separatists are starting to attack Republic planets in the Mid-Rim. Some of the video feeds have been pretty awful," Anakin thought maybe a little conversation would help smooth things between the two of them.

Obi-Wan stopped what he was doing and moved his eyes to Anakin's face. "And?" he asked.

"And, uh, I just thought it was . . . interesting," Anakin supplied lamely.

"Interesting? That innocent sentients are dying at the hands of Dooku and his millions of battle droids?" Obi-Wan pressed.

"Master! No! I just meant that-nevermind. Please continue your meal." Anakin ducked his head. Obi-Wan had always encouraged conversation over meals. Sometimes that was the only time in a long day that they had to interact, just the two of them. And when they were on missions, he missed the interaction if they had to attend official functions instead of dining quietly by themselves.

"Innocent lives that we could have protected had we been successful?" Obi-Wan continued his barrage upon his Padawan. Anakin wasn't sure, but he thought that Obi-Wan actually sounded miffed. He snuck a quick look at his Master's face. So changed, he thought.

"Master, please-" Anakin begged him to stop. He was chagrined that Obi-Wan was working himself up over something that Anakin had said. Stress-free, Anakin, he chastised himself.

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. "You will refrain from mentioning these events to me until I am sufficiently recovered to do something about them, if you please, Padawan," he remonstrated.

"Yes, Master. I understand, Master," Anakin acquiesced.

Returning to his plate, Obi-Wan thought the fruit completely out of the question given the pain along his jaw just from masticating the soft ingredients of the sandwich. Anakin had gone to fetch him a glass of water while he ate. He eyed the glass with trepidation. His arms felt like lead. They lay on the table, occasionally twitching involuntarily from the effort. He pushed his right hand along the table top toward the glass, his fingers barely touching it before it was toppled over violently.

The water rolled right across the table and into Anakin's lap. The younger man jumped up and immediately began brushing it off of his leggings, clearly annoyed at the mess. Obi-Wan was mortified to have spilled his glass of water-such a simple task to hydrate himself. He slumped in his chair, unable to help Anakin clean or even get up and remove himself from the room.

Anakin clumsily cleaned up the spill, unused to taking care of such things since Obi-Wan was usually the cleaner and they rarely had accidents of this nature through natural grace and use of the Force. But he managed to sop up the water at least from the table. The carpet was a bigger challenge. He flailed a little trying to decide what to use and finally settled on the same towel he had used for the table.

Obi-Wan waited.

Once Anakin had thrown the wet towel into the kitchen sink to deal with later, he returned to the table, standing next to Obi-Wan with his hands on his hips. Obi-Wan looked up with red-rimmed eyes. The exertion of eating had exhausted him again, and he wasn't sure he could propel himself to his bedroom eight steps from his current location. He lowered his eyes from Anakin's, unable to verbalize the swirl of helplessness and need he felt.

Anakin, to his credit, recognized his Master's exhaustion from missions that had tested both of them to their limits. At those times, Obi-Wan had rejected any attempts Anakin had made to suggest that his Master relent and rest. He had certainly balked at any suggestion that Anakin provide help or intervention with the situation. But now . . .

Anakin didn't wait for the words of denial. He simply grasped Obi-Wan's wrist and pulled the man bodily out of the chair. Slinging the arm over his shoulders, he carried his Master to his bed, lying him down gently. Obi-Wan rolled to his side as soon as he was released to avoid looking at his Padawan. Anakin covered him up, dimmed the lights, and left the door open.

* * *

More weeks passed and Obi-Wan regained considerable control and range of movement in his stiff-sheathed limbs through diligent work and tending. Every day was a ritual devoted to keeping his skin as pliable as possible to limit his own body's limitations. Scarred tissue was bulkier and less flexible than live tissue. Obi-Wan felt like he was wearing a new skin suit, ill-fitted and of poor material. But it keep his insides from falling out, so he accepted it.

What he couldn't accept were the limitations placed on his service as a Jedi Knight. He refused to give up pushing himself to return to his physical peak-or at least as close as he could get-through physical therapy and training.

And the worst part was that Anakin was positively doting on him. Night and day. Distant and yet hovering right there every time Obi-Wan turned around. He would try to anticipate every one of Obi-Wan's needs before he even needed.

His Master resented the hovering because it showed how weak and useless he had become. He could plainly see his weakness reflected in his apprentice's face, in his eyes, in his posture always ready to catch his Master if he stumbled. He should have been able to discipline himself enough to tell Anakin he didn't need or want help. But the truth was that he did need it even if he didn't want it.

"More sauce, Master?" Anakin asked through a full mouth. Obi-Wan's forehead dropped into his hand in disgust.

"Yes, Anakin," he replied, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice.

Anakin slathered Obi-Wan's pasta until he could barely discern what was even under the sauce. He grinned at his Master. _I'm really doing it_, he thought. _I'm taking care of Obi-Wan. I'm becoming a better Padawan_.

It infuriated Obi-Wan to see his Padawan so involved in the care of another Jedi-even if it was himself. The detachment he had fought so hard to build up throughout their relationship was splintering, shards falling to the wayside of the path they traveled.

"Here, Master, open wide," Anakin mimicked what he was asking Obi-Wan to do with his mouth. _Does he even see himself_, Obi-Wan wondered, as he complied.

Anakin attacked Obi-Wan's teeth with the toothbrush, and the Master wondered if he couldn't do a more gentle job of it even with his shaky hands. Anakin was kind of rough.

For his part, Anakin was enjoying the time he got to spend with his Master. He felt less rejected by the older Jedi as he took more and more of Obi-Wan's care into his own hands.

The only solace Obi-Wan found was his link to the Force. It had not diminished since the fire. In communion with the Force, he was a full Jedi once more. Unfortunately for him, he was not able to live on that plane full-time. He had to return to his damaged and weakened body eventually.

Each return to reality was harder. The stress of re-learning every type of physical activity from brushing his teeth to tying the laces on his own pants was beginning to take a toll on his emotional fortitude. Each time he had to re-accept his own boundaries, he felt himself losing control of his hard-earned reserve and stoicism.

Obi-Wan looked up from the meditation pad. He couldn't quite get his legs crossed yet, and his back complained about the awkward position. The pain shooting up his right side had interrupted his meditation again. The only thing he looked forward to in his day, ruined by his body once more.

Obi-Wan swore and threw the water bottle that Anakin had thoughtfully placed within arm's reach-plastic and with a top to prevent any spilling incidents. Obi-Wan cursed his 'sippy cup' as it rolled across the carpet and dutifully didn't spill a drop.

He continued to grumble as he uncurled himself and began to stand. Mid-rise his mind suddenly replayed an incident from Anakin's youth. He too had thrown a plastic water bottle in frustration over some class material. Obi-Wan had remonstrated with him for thirty minutes about the futility of not only the frustration but the act of taking the frustration out on an inanimate object. _Oh Force_, he thought. _I'm becoming Anakin_.

Anakin, on the other hand, was more emotionally distant as he was more physically present. The changes in Obi-Wan had him running for emotional cover. He had always been sensitive to Obi-Wan's opinion of him-but this was a whole other level. As much as he bristled at Obi-Wan's attempts to train him out of his emotions, he had to admit that an angry and powerful Jedi was a scary proposition.

One night they decided to watch some pod racing on the HoloNet. Obi-Wan was glad of the distraction even if pod racing wasn't really his thing. But as the race wore on, he found himself more and more absorbed. His starved mind latched onto anything that would stimulate it as the physical therapy stimulated his muscles.

"Oh, c'mon!" he shouted at the screen. "What was that?" Then he pointed and looked at Anakin to share his outrage.

Anakin looked at his Master with a sidelong glance. "Um, a disqualification?" Anakin volunteered. He figured that Obi-Wan was asking about the ruling just levied against the Dug who had secretly suped up his pod in ways that were not only illegal but highly dangerous to everyone in the race.

"I know that!" Obi-Wan rejoined. His face was turning red-as much as his face did anymore. "Who cares? They're all risking their lives by being in the Sith-forsaken race anyway! Let him race." He crossed his arms and pouted.

Anakin turned to Obi-Wan, "Master, they can't very well let him do something that would endanger the drivers, the officials, and the spectators. That's hardly fair." He had completely agreed with the officials' call.

Obi-Wan pushed himself awkwardly up from the couch. "Whatever," he pronounced with disdain.

Obi-Wan could see Anakin out of the corner of his eye, watching him like a wary prey animal, twitching in anticipation of the first false move from the predator. Anakin wasn't afraid; he was distant, cautious, alert. He was talking less, expressing himself less, emoting less. He just wasn't Anakin Skywalker as Obi-Wan Kenobi had come to know him. _He's more like_, Obi-Wan thought for a moment. _Oh, Force, like _me!

And Obi-Wan knew it was all his fault. His weakness was destroying the both of them. He was ill-at-ease with feeling weak and with Anakin seeing it because it was not something he had ever thought to have to show to others day after day, indefinitely.

And every day he asked himself, is this my permanent state of being? Is this the permanent state of our relationship now?

* * *

**A/N: Okay! The muse strikes again. I struggled so much with this one, since it was my first foray into angst (and now I really need a drink with Quinlan at the Outlander). But proker's super suggestions just shook loose a great deal of 'showing' to intersperse with the 'telling'. Thank you, dear! As for the rest of you, enjoy the revisions.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **I added in Yoda's gimer stick just for you, Valairy Scot. Thanks for the thoughtful reviews. Also, if you didn't see them, there were a few revisions to the end of Chapter 5 after its initial posting. Happy Saturday morning reading!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

A full two months into Obi-Wan's recovery, as Anakin was walking the Healer to the door after Obi-Wan's daily physical therapy session, he was surprised to find Master Yoda waiting patiently in the corridor. He had known that Anakin approached the door.

"Master," said both Anakin and the Healer Padawan. Then the Healer melted away into the background as Anakin's full focus was on the Grandmaster and his reasons for his visit.

"Come to see you and your Master, I have, Skywalker," Yoda said.

Anakin stepped aside to let the Jedi Master enter. Yoda didn't hurry his step at all as he made his way into their apartment. Anakin followed obediently behind.

"Your Master is home, mmmm?" Yoda asked looking around and seeing two closed bedroom doors.

"Yes, Master, but he's just had his therapy. He's probably lying down now," Anakin said, hoping that Yoda wouldn't make him disturb Obi-Wan. He needed to rest, not put up a brave front in front of the face of the Council.

"Speak to you, I can, Padawan," Yoda replied. Anakin let out a small breath of relief. "How does your Master recover?"

Anakin instantly felt tense again. "Um, he's doing really well, Master. You know Master Obi-Wan. Always dedicated. I'm sure that we'll be back in the thick of things before you know it." He tried to be vague but reassuring. He was wary of Yoda.

"His strength, it is returning then?" Yoda pressed.

Anakin decided to go for broke-he knew he'd have only a few precious chances at this. "Yes, Master. I even saw him performing a few basic katas this morning. He's really determined not to let this injury stop him." I just lied to the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, thought Anakin. And I don't care. You and the Council are not going to take my Master away from me.

Yoda eyed Anakin suspiciously but all he said was "Mmmmm. Good, good." He seemed content to leave at that for now because he started his slow procession back toward the front door, Anakin trailing at a respectful distance again.

At the doorway, Yoda turned again to address Anakin. "Take good care of your Master, Padawan." And, in true Yoda fashion, he rapped Anakin on the shins, gently, with his gimer stick to emphasize his point.

"Yes, Master," Anakin responded. After the door slid shut, Anakin slumped against it and broke out in a cold sweat. Yoda was checking up on Obi-Wan. He was checking up on them.

Anakin was afraid of what that meant.

* * *

The next day, Obi-Wan was alone while Anakin completed some shopping outside of the Temple. When the door chimed, he looked up surprised. It wasn't time for his physical therapy. Who could it be? No one had visited him since he had come home from the Healer's Ward, most of the Jedi Order tangled up in this new war.

He ambled to the door. When the durasteel slid open, Obi-Wan took in the sight of the formidable Master Windu. He always felt short around the man.

"Master, what can I do for you?" he asked politely, not sure if he was just passing by or if he wanted to actually come in.

"I am here to speak to you, Master Obi-Wan. May I come in?" Windu was just as polite.

"Yes, yes, of course," Obi-Wan spluttered out in his fluster to accommodate the Council member.

When they were both seated-Obi-Wan in his usual spot on the couch and Windu in a chair opposite-the visiting Master wasted no time getting to the point.

"How are things going with your Padawan?" he inquired.

"Anakin is well," Obi-Wan replied evasively. "He's stepped out for some foodstuff."

"Yes, I sensed he had left the Temple. That's why I came to speak to you." Windu said, perplexing Obi-Wan even more.

"Indeed?" Obi-Wan prompted.

"Are you having any difficulty shouldering the responsibility of a Padawan who requires so much attention?" he asked Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan was aghast, and for once he was glad that his face was virtually incapable of subtle expressions anymore. Was the Council going to take Anakin away from him? Before he had a chance to respond, Windu went on.

"We know that Skywalker can be a handful, and you have enough to do with your recovery. But the truth is that with this war ramping up, we just don't have enough Masters to go around. If you could keep him for at least a little while longer, the Council would appreciate it. Just until you think it's time for him to find someone else." Windu looked like he honestly was asking Obi-Wan for the favor of being Anakin's Master. As if he was indebted to Obi-Wan for it.

The scarred man nodded and said, "Of course. There is no pressing reason to reassign either of us. But thank you for your concern." He was exerting every ounce of self-control to keep himself from visibly shaking from the fear and anger which gripped him.

"I appreciate your willingness to serve, Master Obi-Wan," Windu said and rose to his feet. "No need to get up. I can see myself out. May the Force be with you."

And with that, he was gone. But his visit left behind an emotional upheaval that he had not anticipated.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Obi-Wan first suspected that Anakin was cheating on him when he came home one day covered in sweat and breathing heavily with a large smile on his face. He claimed that he had been working on his newly assigned starfighter, lost track of time, and run all the way from the hangar to their quarters. But Obi-Wan suspected something else. There was a faint edge to his Force signature. Something he had only seen at certain times before now.

Obi-Wan told himself that it was only natural for the boy to seek out the company of another. He was a young man; he had needs. But that didn't go very far to consoling the ailing Master. He was starting to become lonely. Whenever he and Anakin talked, it was always about his treatments or his therapy or his state of being. Anakin fawned over him and made everything about his Master.

Anakin never spoke of what he did when he wasn't in his Master's company. And Obi-Wan interpreted this new emotional distance it as disappointment in Obi-Wan as a Master.

"So tell me about your new starfighter, Anakin," Obi-Wan prompted over dinner one evening-cafeteria food brought by a Padawan Anakin had charmed into service.

"I like it," Anakin replied between mouthfuls of food. "How was your physical therapy today?"

"Fine," Obi-Wan replied, just as evasively. "Have you flown it yet or just tinkered with it?" How could Anakin resist talking about the little improvements he made to every machine that came within his reach?

"I've flown it twice," Anakin told him as he wiped his mouth and pushed back from the table. "Let me get that plate for you, Master," he said as he bussed the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, effectively removing him to a safe distance whereby talking would turn into shouting.

Obi-Wan sighed. He slowly rose out of his chair and moved to the couch. He ran his hand over his chin where stubble had begun to appear. He was most definitely growing his beard back, no matter what Anakin said.

When said Anakin entered the living area, Obi-Wan caught his eye. "I know where you've been, Padawan," he pronounced.

Anakin was all innocence. "What do you mean, Master? I was in the hangar like I said."

"But not all day, you weren't. I can feel your exhilaration, Anakin. I can tell you've been sparring." He didn't add 'with someone else' because they both knew that that was the true accusation.

The younger man didn't say anything. He was caught. He knew it. He should have come straight home to take care of his Master instead of stopping by the practice rooms. There, he had found Master Fisto and his Padawan. After watching for a few minutes, Anakin couldn't resist when they asked him to join. He had been itching to spar for days. He hadn't wanted to spar with someone else beside his own Master though.

"I'm sorry, Master. I know I should have come home to help you sooner. It's my responsibility to take care of you . . ." He would have said more, except a noise escaping from Obi-Wan stopped him.

"I do not need to be reminded of how I am burdening you, Padawan. But you will not lie to me-injuries or no," he scolded.

Anakin was all apologies. "No, no, Master, you are never a burden. It's my honor to take care of you and get you through this transition." His sickly sweet tone made Obi-Wan's stomach sour.

"An honor?" he questioned. "An honor to nursemaid me? An honor to watch over me like I'm some poor, hapless creature that might hurt himself? Well, you can keep your honor, Padawan. I am not a cause for you to champion." Obi-Wan's words were scathing, slicing right into Anakin's heart.

After a few minutes of pregnant silence, Obi-wan returned to his earlier accusation. "Was it fun, Anakin? Like it used to be for us?"

"Why are you asking me that, Master?"

"I'm curious how this experience stacks up to my instruction. How did you do?"

"I held my own," Anakin replied guardedly. In fact, he had bested Master Fisto's Padawan nearly immediately. And he had done well against the Master too.

"Held your own, eh?" Obi-Wan queried. "Speaking of, where is my lightsaber?" He hadn't even thought about the weapon since his injury. That fact sent chills up and down his spine. How could he so quickly forget something that he had held every day for over twenty years?

"It's-um, I'll get it for you, Master," Anakin stumbled over his words. To Obi-Wan's surprise, Anakin went to his own room. He returned with the saber cradled gently in both hands and offered it to his Master reverently.

"Why was it in your room?" Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin ducked his head. The truth was that he had actually been sleeping with it under his pillow. It helped him feel closer to Obi-Wan as his Master pushed him farther away with his mood swings. "I guess that's just where I put it when we got back from Geonosis, Master. I'm sorry I kept it from you," he replied.

"Well, it's not like I could use it anyway," Obi-Wan said derisively. "But it's good to feel it in my hands. Even if it does feel different." He knew that it wasn't the lightsaber that felt different but the hands currently caressing it like a long lost lover.

Now he regretted asking Anakin for it. All he could think about was how he had no idea when or if he'd ever be able to wield it again as a Jedi Knight. And his jealousy of his Padawan's youth, vigor, and ability to do everything by himself almost bent Obi-Wan double with pain. He scowled with his scarred mouth, scarred lips, scarred life.

Suddenly, he tossed his lightsaber casually onto the coffee table. It thunked as if protesting its shabby treatment. Anakin couldn't resist rescuing it from its unceremonious resting place. He cradled it in his arms and looked at his Master.

"Should I put it in your room?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Obi-Wan said and hung his head. He just couldn't stand to see his apprentice looking at him as if he had gone mad—which Obi-Wan was pretty sure was happening.

As he delivered his Master's weapon to his room, finding a safe, but inconspicuous spot for it where Obi-Wan wouldn't have to look at it all the time, all Anakin could think about was the venom in Obi-Wan's voice. How could he see himself as a burden?

Anakin was at a loss of how best to help his Master. He was trying everything he could think of to show Obi-Wan that he could be a proper Padawan for him-obedient, calm, helpful. But his Master didn't seem to be himself at all anymore. He wasn't pleased by Anakin's actions. If anything, his work to be a better apprentice seemed to anger his Master.

When he returned from Obi-Wan's room, he began his explanations again, "I am sorry to make you angry . . . ," talking more to the floor than the person in the room.

"I'm not angry, Anakin," Obi-Wan said, angrily. He crossed his arms and looked away in the same way Anakin used to when he was pissed and Obi-Wan reprimanded him.

"Yes, Master," Anakin replied, determined to keep his cool.

Why isn't he popping off at me, Obi-Wan wondered. I guess I'm too easy a target now. To his apprentice he said, "I am going to bed. I will see you tomorrow."

All Anakin said was another "Yes, Master" as Obi-Wan let the door to his room slide closed.


	8. Chapter 8: Final Chapter

**Chapter 8**

Anakin thought the whole discussion of the incident with the sparring was closed. It certainly seemed that way to him when Obi-Wan stopped talking and went to bed. True to his Jedi manner, Obi-Wan didn't hold grudges. At least, he didn't used to hold grudges.

But as the next few weeks dragged on, Anakin knew that something wasn't right. Something was in the air. He could taste it. But he couldn't identify it.

Obi-Wan had taken to skulking around the apartment without so much as a grunt good morning. He ignored Anakin completely, seemingly wrapped up in his own world.

One particular morning, he kept up the silent treatment until Anakin put on his cloak and walked toward the front door.

"So that's it?" Obi-Wan called to him from the kitchen table.

Anakin stopped and turned toward his Master with his hands clasped in front of him in what he hoped was the look of a meek Padawan. "I'm sorry, Master, what did you say?"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and gestured with his caf cup. "That's it? You're just running off to find someone else to play with again?" When he finished speaking, he slammed the cup onto the table.

Ah, thought Anakin, I have been spending too much time away from him. "Master, I didn't mean to-" he began but was cut off.

"You didn't mean to seek out the company of another Master?" Obi-Wan threw back in his face, making big sweeping arcs with his hands-another reminder of how he had changed. Obi-Wan used to become still when he was clamping down on himself emotionally. He went on in his rough voice, "No, you didn't seek it out; you simply took advantage of it. Go ahead, Anakin, say what you want. We have no secrets, do we?"

Anakin dropped his hands to his sides, completely clueless and tired of guessing. "Say? What do you want me to say, Master?" He didn't know how to react to this Obi-Wan's anger and bitterness. Obi-Wan had never been angry or bitter. It just wasn't in his nature, Jedi or not.

Obi-Wan stood and snorted. "Say that you don't want a cripple for a Master. Say that you are done with someone who can't train you in the most basic Jedi lessons-control, discipline, humility. Say that you don't want me!" Obi-Wan's voice raised in volume and crackled as he ended up yelling at Anakin. He threw himself haphazardly on the couch.

As the young man pulled away physically from the verbal assault, he reacted as if he had been slapped. Was Obi-Wan suggesting that Anakin himself wanted out? When Anakin's greatest fear was losing Obi-Wan? How could this man have raised him and know so little about him?

Anakin felt his temper flare. "That's not fair, Master! I've been busting my ass trying to take care of you. I've done everything you've asked and more. And I've done it not because I had to, but because I wanted to." Anakin stopped to take a breath.

"You are supposed to be my Padawan! You are supposed to be my responsibility, not the other way around," Obi-Wan pointed out as if Anakin had forgotten.

"Respectfully, Master, I disagree. I think that we are each other's responsibility. I am as beholden to you and your well-being as you are to me and mine." Obi-Wan looked sharply at the young man-when had he become so wise? Anakin continued in a lower voice, "Can't you see that I'm terrified of you sending me away? I can't learn from another Master. I'd leave the Order first!"

But now it was Obi-Wan's turn to feel the slap of realization across his face. "You lose me?" he said quietly. "Anakin, you are the Chosen One. You should have the best of everything. And look at me! As inadequate as I was before this mess, I'm a shadow of who I used to be." He felt so old.

"Inadequate?" Anakin repeated, as if the word itself made no sense to him much less when it was applied to Obi-Wan. "I am the one who is inadequate, Master. I have failed you so many times. I'm trying to make it up to you, but it seems that my greatest talent is just failure." Anakin was close to tears. He felt every single echo of past mistakes, regrets, arguments, and reprimands that he had accumulated. They threatened to choke him.

"The only failure I see before me is a failure to let go of dead weight holding you back," Obi-Wan said with a voice that echoed with defeat.

Obi-Wan leaned forward on the couch and dropped his forearms to his thighs, his hands dangling between his knees. He kept talking. "Being a Jedi is all I know. It's all I've ever wanted to know. And while I understand rationally that I can still continue to serve in many ways," Obi-Wan paused to look at Anakin, pinning him with his eyes alone. "If I can't continue with you until your Knighthood at least, then-" he stopped. He was too full of what he wanted to say-what he had to say-to really say it.

He averted his gaze. He couldn't look the young man in the eye anymore as he said, "You shouldn't have saved me, Anakin. It was a foolish decision. You risked your life, and your future, for me. And what good has that done?" _Maybe we both would have been better off if you hadn't_, he thought.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes tightly-it was just too hard to see himself reflected in Anakin's blue eyes. "If I can't be with you, then I don't want to _be_ at all."

He waited for a response. Any response. He had about a million possibilities running through his mind of what Anakin would probably say, what he would say. But he was wrong.

Anakin came to kneel before his Master. He forced the older man's head up so that he could look him in the eye. Obi-Wan's surprise at the action caused his eyes to pop open before he could stop them.

"I can't be a Jedi without you either, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You are the only reason I'm still here," Anakin said with the conviction of a martyr. "You are the Order to me. And I'll not let them separate us because of the sacrifice you made in service to them and to the Republic. You suffered for the rest of us. You won't suffer anymore because of that choice. Not if I can help it."

Then Anakin sat next to his Master and put his arm around the thin shoulders. He could feel Obi-Wan trembling. "Why are you saying these things, Master? Why would you think that I would want to leave?"

Obi-Wan swallowed a sob. He gasped for air. Then he managed to croak out, "Mace suggested you be given a different Master if I couldn't handle you." Now it was Anakin's turn to swallow his anger and resentment of the Council member.

"They can't do that," he pronounced with all the authority he could muster. He had worried about the same thing, especially after Yoda's visit-which he had never mentioned to Obi-Wan. He hadn't known about Windu's visit either.

Obi-Wan continued, "But he's right. I can't be a proper Master anymore. I can't spar with you, can't travel. I can't be a good example of a Jedi for you. I'm an emotional wreck, and you know it." Obi-Wan lowered his head again. Anakin hated hearing the defeat in his voice.

He curled his arm tighter around his Master. "You are the best example for me. Your sacrifice. Your fortitude in the face of suffering. I know how hard you work on your physical therapy, pushing yourself beyond your limits. And I know you are doing it for me as much as for yourself. That's why I have been trying to push myself too. I've been trying to be the ideal Padawan, the one you deserve."

They sat in silence for a few moments, letting the implications of their confessions sink in. They were finally listening to each other-finally saying what needed to be said. Not hiding behind facades anymore. It felt right to both of them. The time had come to look at each other as they were, not how they wished they were or how they wished they were for each other.

Anakin whispered, "We'll get through this together, Master. Obi-Wan. We will."

Obi-Wan looked up at the young man who meant so much to him and smiled-the first smile Anakin had seen on his face in over a month. And when he smiled, Obi-Wan's face was his again. The warmth, the compassion, the sincerity of Master Kenobi shone through any amount of scarring. It warmed Anakin inside and out to see it and know that he had helped.

"I see you there, Master, between your scars," he teased, grateful to be able to do so again. "You can't hide from me anymore." His voice was sing-songy as if he were talking to a youngling.

At that, Obi-Wan did more than smile-he guffawed. Then he reached up and ruffled Anakin's spiky hair. He said with a slight lilt in his voice, "I am not hiding, Padawan. I was simply a Master teaching his student an important lesson about accepting himself." He looked at Anakin sideways with a smirk on his lips.

Anakin laughed out loud. His Obi-Wan was back.

The End


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